


Yours, Always

by Tru_tru



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Croatoan/Endverse, Bottom Castiel, Bottom Endverse Castiel, Confessions, Hand Jobs, Happy Ending, M/M, Mildy sexist comments that are almost immediately disproven, Possessive Dean, Present!Dean/Future!Cas - Freeform, Recreational Drug Use, Sappy as hell, Schmoop, Smut, Top Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-11
Updated: 2017-12-11
Packaged: 2019-02-13 15:22:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12986904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tru_tru/pseuds/Tru_tru
Summary: Cas looks at him like he’s a fucking moron and it chafes his pride. Cas plops onto the bed and Dean gets the sinking feeling that he’s about to get schooled in sex by a man who, in Dean’s timeline, ran terrified from a whorehouse not three weeks ago.“Sex is about compassion Dean. Figuring out how the other person wants to be pleasured and cared for. You connect with them and meet their needs. You become what they are looking for."Future!Cas is a mess and it's all Dean's fault. He's got one night to make up for it before he goes back to 2009 to set things right. Fluff and smut, loads of feels. Zachariah's a douche but Dean should probably thank him.





	Yours, Always

Dean had gotten pretty well acquainted with self-loathing over the years. When you've grown up hunting monsters and made life or death calls on a daily basis, you couldn't avoid making a few wrong decisions. And if you’re Dean, you couldn't help it if those decisions happen to eat away at you at night, and formed a hole in your chest that you tried to fill with booze and sex. It never really worked but dammit all you kept trying.

But as he stood across from _himself-_ not a doppelganger or shapeshifter, but _him_ , just a few years in the future- and felt his initial dislike of himself grow with every word he said, it just added a whole, newly surreal level to it.

After he snuck into Camp Chitaqua and convinced himself- or Future Dean, as he referred to him in his head- that he could more or less be trusted, he managed to swing a place at their roundtable. It was explained to him that now that Future Dean and company had possession of the Colt, it was time to mount an attack on Lucifer.

But before the details of the assault the next morning could be ironed out, Future Dean had more mundane things to take care of. Mainly to make sure that the ship didn't sink, so to speak, if he failed to come back alive.

Dean already felt pretty skeezed out by his future self, who had apparently returned to his torturing ways, and his conduct at the weekly meeting did nothing to alleviate that.

He watched as Future Dean held court like a goddamn king, and dispensed orders from on high.

“Drew, I need you and Max to patch up the break in the eastern defense wall.”

“Max is still recovering from the concussion he got on the last supply run. I don’t think-“

“I don’t give a shit what you think. Give him some coffee and get it done. Charlotte.”

A young woman in an oversized flannel gulped.

"Yeah?”

“I see you feeding that stray dog one more time and I’m gonna put a bullet in its head myself, we clear?”

For a moment she said nothing, shocked and dismayed. She looked around the room, and several pairs of eyes dropped to the floor. Though no one was coming to her defense, Dean would have bet his best lockpick that she wasn't the only one breaking rank to feed the mutt.

“Are we clear?” He said again, with enough force that it made her flinch.

“Y-yeah. Clear.”

“Good.” Dean (the one who _hadn't_  just threatened to euthanize a defenseless animal) shifted forward to object but felt a hand on his shoulder.

“Don’t.” It was Castiel, though not any kind of Castiel that he’s used to. This one was so relaxed (a kinder term than ‘stoned’) and aloof. It freaked him out a bit. He cut the angel a sharp look. The responding gaze was full of warning, and for a moment Dean could see past the blissed-out junkie to the buttoned-down servant of God that he left back in 2009. The illusion was shattered when Cas pulled a joint from his pocket and lit up.

He offered Dean a hit and grinned conspiratorially like he was a rebellious high school kid blazing up in the bathroom.

Dean turned away and hoped Cas would get the hint, only to see that Future Dean had stopped explaining the new rationing policy to glare daggers at them.

“Having fun?” Cas didn't even blink. Years at Dean’s side (and whatever chemicals were currently lighting up his brain) must have anesthetized him to the man’s power moves.

“Starting to.” He said before exhaling. “That a problem?”

“It is when it’s during my meeting.”

“Relax Fearless Leader. I’m just welcoming the new guy.” He threw an arm over Dean’s shoulders. “In my own… _special_ way.” Dean shivered. He knew that tone; he’d  _used_ that tone, almost exclusively when implying something dirty. “But you wouldn’t have any issues with that would you?”

Future Dean glowered and Dean knew he was missing something.

  
"You do whatever the fuck you want Cas, just don’t disrupt my meeting to do it. Get the fuck out and take your new buddy with you.”

“Gladly.” Cas bit back and pushed past the other survivors. Dean was happy enough to follow- he was sick of watching himself snap and bark orders like some fascist chump- but as he stepped down from the porch he realized his mistake.

“Shouldn’t we stick around? If you guys are gearing up to gank the Devil I want in on the plan.” It was cool outside, the ground damp from last night’s rain. The smell of petrichor mingled with the ever-present odor of smoke, gunpowder, and people who had been without showers for a very long time.

Bare trees lined the property’s southern border and Dean wondered if the Earth itself has somehow become diseased, polluted by the misery of it’s few remaining inhabitants.

Cas took a drag and tilted his head back to scan the sky. A wave of homesickness washed over Dean as he remembered Cas doing the same thing in his time. When he would get especially frustrated with the brothers and their irrational human customs he would stare up at the sky as if asking God for the patience to deal with these confusing mortals.

“The plan’s already been made.” He said, matter-of-factly. “Nothing we can do now.”

“But there’s two of me now. You don’t think that changes anything?” Cas started to walk away, one eye still cast upwards.

“Unlikely. You’ll be another soldier, nothing more. One doesn’t question the Fearless Leader.” He still didn't look back at Dean or check to see that he was following, and the statement came out so dreamily that it almost felt like Cas was talking to himself.

A few more survivors walked by and Cas nodded to them. Dean didn't know what pissed him off more, his other self being a Grade A asshat, or Castiel’s give-no-fucks attitude.

“That’s bullshit. I can do more. Strategize, be a body double for that douchebag, something.” He lengthened his strides and grabbed Castiel by the shoulder, pulling him to a stop and forcing him to face Dean. He looked hard into the clear blue eyes that had been made cloudy with weed and hopelessness. His argument died on his lips, replaced by a new and more pressing question.

“What happened here Cas? Something went down between you two and it wasn’t just the world going to hell. Explain it to me, please.” It isn’t an order or a threat, just an honest to God plea. It must work too because something new dawned on Castiel’s face. His eyes narrowed in recognition and it was like he was seeing Dean for the first time.

“You really want to know, don’t you? You’re really…” He raised a hand as if he wanted to touch Dean’s face, but stopped short. “I’m sorry Dean, it’s just been so long since you’ve been… _this._ ”

“Been what?” And this was the part that he can tell is so crucial. Not just what happened if he said no to Michael, but the difference between who he was and who he was in danger of becoming: the tight-fisted asshole who pushes everyone- not just Sam, but Cas too, apparently- away.

Cas looked around furtively, possibly hitting a streak of paranoia, and said,

“Come with me.” They head back to his cabin and for the first time all day he saw Cas walking with actual purpose. When they reached the cabin they found two women waiting on Cas’ bed, holding hands. They’re clothed- thank heaven for small mercies- but their intention is clear.

“My sincerest apologies ladies,” Cas crowed as they push through the beaded curtain. He discarded the joint in one of several ashtrays that have been placed around the room and put a hand on each of their shoulders.

“I’m afraid I have some less pleasant matters to attend to. I will call on you when they are resolved.”

 _Damn,_ Dean thought, _Cas has some moves. No way_ I _taught him that._ The women smiled graciously and left without a fuss. Once they were gone Dean couldn't help but raise his eyebrows in appreciation- if not for the skill of the delivery, then at least for the caliber of women Cas had just turned away.

“Quite popular these days, huh?” Cas waved a hand at the comment.

“It happens sometimes. The women around here- the straight women, at least- have to do a fair bit of comforting for the battle-worn men. And since they’re more than a little battle worn themselves, no one _really_ gets taken care of, you know?”

“Not sure I do.” Cas rolled his eyes.

“Well, that’s probably because you only think of sex as a release.”

“Isn’t it?” Cas looked at him like he was a fucking moron and it chafed his pride. Cas plopped onto the bed and Dean got the sinking feeling that he was about to get schooled in _sex_ by a man who, in Dean’s timeline, ran terrified from a whorehouse not three weeks ago.

“It’s about _compassion_ Dean. Figuring out how the other person wants to be pleasured and cared for. You connect with them and meet their needs. You _become_ what they are looking for. At least, that’s the way it is with women.”

“Just with women, huh?” It was meant to be a tease, but Cas just rolled with it.

“Yeah. With men though…” A devious smile crept across his face. “Then it usually is about a release.”

A stone dropped in his gut.

“So you’ve uh…” He coughed. “You’ve been with men huh?” He leaned against a nearby chair, aiming for nonchalant but probably missing the mark by a mile. The smile on his friend’s face didn't waver and even got a little wider. He leaned back on the bed and folded his arms behind his head.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Dean blushed and gulped, suddenly fourteen again and face-to-face with seventeen-year-old Melanie Atkins, who knew exactly how to angle her body and bat her eyelashes to make Dean squirm and stutter.

Dean didn't want to know. Not really. The thought that other men had touched Cas, kissed him, fucked him…it drew him into a hellish limbo between jealousy and arousal that he might never get out of.

“It’s none of my business.” He managed. The mirth suddenly drained from Castiel’s face.

“That’s what you always say.” His voice was like ice, and the whole room felt colder.

“Always. You mean, the other me?” He felt it was important right now to remind Castiel of the difference. He took a seat in the chair and leaned forward.

“So what happened?” Cas shook his head as if to clear it, but didn't look at Dean. He picked a spot on the far wall and took a deep breath.

“What did I used to call it? A…profound bond, I think. That was early days though, so there was a lot I didn’t understand about feelings. I had them, of course, but it’s so different when you’re inside a human body. Angelic emotions aren’t nearly as messy or bright. We were not created to feel, just to follow orders.” He smiled a bit as he remembered.

“And then I met you and Sam. And suddenly I was swirling with all this…color. I was feeling emotions that you or he would have recognized immediately, but to me, it was just confusing. My superiors recognized it before I did. My… _fondness_ for you. They didn’t trust me around you anymore and I can’t blame them.”

“Trust you? To do what?”

“What they wanted, instead of what you asked or…or what I wanted.” Cas’ voice dipped slightly at that and it made Dean’s stomach jolt. He held nothing back as he painted a picture of a situation that Dean had been ignoring ever since the angel appeared in his life. He was almost afraid to ask, but he had to.

“What did you want?” Castiel’s eyes flickered, and for a second Dean thought he might actually look at him. But they returned to their spot on the wall a moment later.

“You remember that night you brought me to the brothel?” Dean nodded. “That’s when it really hit me. Not just that I loved you, I think that had been obvious, but that I _wanted_ you in ways an angel wasn’t supposed to. I wanted _you_ to take my virginity, not some random woman. But I was afraid of what the repercussions would have been. Not just with us, but in Heaven. If it came out that I favored a human over my brothers…I may not have been immediately banished, but lines would have been drawn.”

“So what, they’d make you choose?”

“No doubt they would have, eventually, regardless of what we did that night. But at the time some still held out hope I could convince you to say yes to Michael.” As Cas filled in the gaps of the story, things shifted and broke in Dean’s chest, as he was given answers to questions he should have asked a while ago.

“Didn’t work though.”

“No. In fairness though, I didn’t really try. I really believed you’d figure a way out of it. Fighting destiny? It’s what the Winchesters _did_. But you couldn’t this time.” He looked down finally and refocused on a loose thread on the bedspread.

“The Croatoan virus was unleashed and the angels just…vanished. They didn’t die, I was fairly sure, but they had abandoned Earth. I couldn’t leave you but without the connection to Heaven, my Grace started to fade. I was powerless.” Dean swallowed hard. The words were peeling him open. He felt strangely exposed, even though it was Cas who was doing the sharing.

“Then you and Sam parted ways. He said yes to Lucifer, probably hoping to force you into saying yes to Michael, who knows. It was too late though. Losing him for good made you…different. You got cold and mean in a way I’d never seen you. I tried to talk to you, hell I tried everything.”

Cas’ eyes glistened with unshed tears.

“I had already given up Heaven for you, but I thought that if I gave up more then you would realize how much I still believed in you. So I gave you the only thing I had left.”

He wiped his eyes but still avoided meeting Dean’s gaze. It was as if telling his story to the wall or the bedspread might make it less painful to recount. Dean wasn’t sure it was working.

“And you took it. But too late I realized that you were only using me. It was everything to me, but to you, it was just another fuck.”

Dean took the words like a punch to the gut, and briefly, he contemplated leaving now to go find his future self and wring his neck.

“You came back to me a few times after that. I didn’t want to, I knew you didn't really care, but you always knew the right thing to say. And every time you left or found someone else I thought, ‘Surely my heart can’t break anymore.’ I was always wrong.” Tears rolled and splashed onto Castiel’s knees. Dean felt sick. Pissed. Utterly mortified.

“I’d only been human for a couple of years. I didn’t know how to deal with heartbreak like that. We had already set up the camp by that point, and one of the survivors had started a business dealing pills, weed, whatever you needed to get through the day. I found a combination of everything did the trick. Mostly anyway.” He wiped his nose on his sleeve.

“You lost interest in me after that. Probably found it easier to find sex elsewhere than have to deal with the damage you’d caused. I found others- women and men you’d promised things to, only to leave them empty and alone. I wanted to help them, soothe them, but without my powers, my body was all I had left. So I learned how to soothe them with that. It wasn’t perfect, but it was enough to keep me busy while I waited."

“Waited for what?” Finally, Cas looked at him, a raw expression on his face that made Dean’s heart physically hurt.

“For you to win. To beat Lucifer and then…come back to me.” If there was any chance that Castiel’s confession hadn’t already broken his heart, the hope in his voice at that moment certainly did the trick. He surged forward wrapped Cas up in his arms, the need to comfort too overwhelming to fight. They had to shift and readjust, but it ended with Dean on the bed and Cas’ head on his shoulder, holding him tight as the tears fell.

“I’m so sorry Cas. I can’t…I can’t imagine.” Cas gripped back just as hard.

“It wasn’t you. I know that. But…” _But it could be._

“I’m not gonna let that happen Cas. I swear I won’t.” The resolution burned through him like anger, and no surprise really. He was angry- at himself, at that fucker he had turned into, at everything that had led to such pain for his angel.

And that’s _exactly_ what Castiel was. His. Fucking. Angel. There was no going back from that realization. He wiped the tears from Cas’ face and gently pulled him up so that the two were eye to eye.

“The Castiel I left back in my time…I _will_ make things different for him, you hear me?” Cas nodded, searching Dean’s eyes to be sure it was true.

“I can’t undo it all for you, but…let me give you something. Let me give you what you should have had that first time around.” Cas’ brow furrowed in confusion, but rather than clarify with words, Dean wiped the last of the tears away and leaned forward.

The kiss was gentle but not hesitant- he couldn’t afford any misunderstandings- and he let it linger, for himself as much as for Castiel. When the other man did respond it was with careful movements and the slow slide of a hand up Dean’s chest, into his hair. He tasted like salt and pot and absinthe, reminders of the blows that time (and Dean) had dealt him, but it didn’t matter. Underneath it all, it was still _Cas,_ and as his breath hitched and his fingers curled into Dean’s scalp, he could feel the magnetic pull that he always felt, but had so long denied. No more though.

He moved his hands to the hem of Cas’ shirt.

“Can I?” Cas responded with an impatient little whine that sent a pang of desire through his core. With Cas’ help he pulled the shirt off, fully intending to kiss his way down the man’s bare chest, but something he felt beneath his hands made him stop. He pulled away to look down and saw a myriad of scars; faded pink lines of all sizes, old burns and more than a couple of healed bullet wounds.

“Cas…” Cas grabbed his hands by the wrists and pulled them away.

“No Dean, please. This, at least, isn’t your fault.”

“Isn’t it?” Everything that Dean did, every mission they went on had put Cas in danger, and from the number of scars, he clearly hadn’t been doing much to protect him. Cas cupped Dean’s jaw and pulled his gaze away from the wreckage of his chest.

“So make it up to me.” Dean nodded, pulling Cas into a deeper kiss, desperate to make things right. Boots were kicked off, clothes were shed, piece by delicious piece. More than once they had to navigate the restrictions of having two grown men in a twin bed, but the absurdity of it just made Dean smile. That, in turn, made Cas smile and even chuckle- not in cynicism or sarcasm, but a real chuckle with warmth and mirth- and it made the ever-present grip on Dean’s heart ease.

When they reached belt buckles and zippers though, the time for laughing was over. The air felt thick with lust, their movements frantic and languid all at once.

“Lean back,” Dean instructed. Cas complied, and Dean pulled off his pants and boxers in one fluid motion, flinging them across the room. For a moment, as Cas settled his legs on either side of Dean’s kneeling body, all Dean could do was stare. His eyes flitted between the man’s hardening cock and his eyes, which were hooded with desire.

“Fuck, Cas.” Cas licked his lips and moved a hand down to stroke himself, but Dean stopped it in its tracks.

“Don’t even think about it.”

“You were taking too long.” He countered.

“Just enjoying the view baby.” Cas’ head tipped back at that, his eyes drifting shut in an expression of near ecstasy.

“Oh, I like that, Dean. Do that again.” Dean crawled forward, letting his bare chest brush against Cas’ length as he went.

“Do what baby?” Cas shivered and arched.

“ _Dean.”_ His own name never sounded so holy, so revered as it did when it was coming from Castiel’s mouth. He swooped in for one more kiss before he had to wrench himself off the bed to free himself from his jeans. The distance prompted another whine from Castiel and _fuck_ , Dean wanted to bottle that sound and sleep with it under his pillow.

Finally naked, he climbed back onto the bed and into that perfect place between Castiel’s outspread legs, careful to keep a few scant inches between their hips.

“How do you want me?” Dean purred, trailing his hands up and down Castiel’s inner thighs. They, too, were marked from the fight against the Croatoans (though blessedly less so) but Dean didn’t want to say anything that might pull Cas out of the sensuous reverie that they had created.

It was Cas’ turn to stare now, his pupils blown so wide that his eyes sparkled. He took in Dean’s form like a starving man would look at a feast, taking special note of the handprint on his shoulder.

“Inside me Dean. That’s all I want: you inside me.” _God yes._ Dean wanted that too.

“Lube?” Cas was still staring, but he managed to point vaguely.

“Bedside drawer.” Dean searched the little nightstand, digging through prescription bottles and rolling papers to find a half-empty bottle of KY and a couple of loose condoms. He turned back, items in hand, but something hit him wrong, like a dissonant chord in his head.

Cas was splayed out before him, legs wide and cheeks flushed. It should have been perfect, but something was off. He had too much leverage like this, like he would be _taking_ something from Castiel rather than giving.

“Cas, I want you. God knows I want you. But not like this.” Panic flashed on Cas’ face and his heaving chest stilled. Dean leaned forward to murmur in the man’s ear,

“I want you to ride me.” Cas breathed again, just this side of a gasp. Panic was replaced by curiosity, and when Dean met his gaze directly to show that he was dead serious, pure and utter glee spread across his face.

Cas kissed him, fighting between the need for their lips to make contact and his dopey grin. He wrapped his arms around Dean’s neck, and Dean took the opportunity to pull them up to a seated position. The kissing was a lost cause, so he ducked his head down to focus on putting on the condom as Cas carded fingers through his hair and nuzzled at his temple.

“Dean, Dean, _Dean…”_   Was all he said; a mantra, a magic spell. His voice was velvet against his skin and Dean wanted to be buried in it.

Somehow the condom made it on- muscle memory, perhaps- and he popped the cap of the KY bottle to coat his fingers.

“Rise up for me baby.” Cas did as instructed, coming up to his knees but still keeping his legs wide. The heat of his cock pressed into Dean’s sternum, the musk of it filling his nostrils. “Gonna open you up for me.” He said as he moved his hand under and back.

“Mmmm.” Their lips brushed again. Nothing too involved, as Dean had to focus on his task, but a reassurance. Between the clefts of his ass, Cas’ hole was hot and tight. Dean brushed his fingers around and against it, teasing. He was in no rush and he loved feeling Cas squirm and moan at the contact. “Please…” He breathed. Dean dipped a finger in slowly. Cas clenched.

“Easy baby. Deep breath, I got you.” Cas breathed in and out several times, relaxing a bit with each exhalation.“There we go.” He kept going, still just the one finger, as Cas kept his breath steady. “Good?”

“Very. Ahh!” This as Dean curled his finger, brushing the sensitive cluster of nerves. “ _Yes._ Fuck, Dean. Fuck me, please.”

“One thing at a time baby.” With more lube and another finger, he worked Castiel open, peppering kissed along his jaw and neck as he did so. When Cas’ hips began to rock back to meet Dean’s hand, he knew it was time. Cas whimpered at the loss of the fingers and Dean couldn’t help but grin. This side of Castiel’s personality- so needy and Goddamn _wonton_ \- turned him on like nothing else.

He lined up their hips just so and spread Castiel’s cheeks wide. Cas’ eyes, which had been closed in rapture, were now open and boring into Dean’s. Dean nodded and Cas descended his hips gradually.

Heat and moisture enveloped Dean’s cock, ripping a moan from his chest.

“Fuck, Cas.” They were gripping each other tight, Cas digging his fingers into the mark of his own handprint on Dean’s skin. Dean gripped Castiel’s hips just as hard, half hoping to leave a similar mark of ownership.

They stayed like that for a moment, chest-to-chest and forehead-to-forehead, breathing as one.

“Your move Cas. Any way you like.” And this was why the change of position has been so important: to put Cas in control, to let him set the pace. All those years of the other Dean manipulating him, breaking him down and then casting him aside… Cas deserved this much. More, really, but Dean only had so much to work with. If one night was all he had to make up for it, he would make sure it was one hell of a night.

Cas kissed him again, slow and sweet, and Dean prayed that that meant he had understood the gesture. When he pulled back though, there was a wicked look in his eyes. His palms flattened against Dean’s chest and pushed him slowly onto his back.

 _Now we’re talking,_ Dean thought. He quickly bunched the pillow more firmly underneath his head, careful to get the best angle so as to see Castiel like this. The grin, the sparkle, the way he batted his eyelashes- it did more than turn him on (although it certainly did that). It also made Dean unabashedly _proud._

He didn’t know whom else Castiel had been with, or what sides of himself he had shown to those partners, but he would bet good money that the other Dean had never seen _this_ Castiel. This bold, sexy, _powerful_ man was something only 2009 Dean was lucky enough to witness- all it had taken was thought and care. _Compassion._

Castiel did move his hips, at last, setting a slow and torturous pace, those bright blue eyes burning into him all the while. He rocked up and down with feline grace, even digging his nails lightly into Dean’s ribs at one point, which made his own hips thrust up involuntarily.

Cas chuckled darkly and did it again.

“You…fucking…tease.” Dean managed to gasp.

“You love it.” Cas purred back.

“I do, Christ, I…” And then it hit him. Clear as a fucking bell, the thought came into his head and it was so _right_ and _true_ he had to say it.

“I love _you_ Cas.” Cas stuttered to a stop, his mouth dropped open in surprise.

“You…” He couldn’t even say it, but Dean could. He brought a hand up to Cas’ cheek.

“I fucking love you Castiel. So much, I…God, I was such a fucking idiot, all this time and I’m sorry. But I love you.”

Castiel’s eyes were shining again, but not with sadness. He brought himself off of Dean’s cock and crashed down into the man’s chest, kissing him so fiercely it bordered on painful.

“I love you too Dean.” He gasped. “You know I do. I always have.” And he did know. They kept kissing, two pairs of hands touching every inch of skin they could reach. When Cas’ hands made it down to Dean’s ass he squeezed hard, making Dean moan.

“We don’t have to Cas. We can just lie here if you want.” And while it wasn’t exactly what Dean wanted, he wanted Cas to know that the declaration wasn’t about sex. His balls would be pissed at him in the morning, but he’d deal.

“No.” Cas’ voice was firm. “I want this. You and me, like this, right now.” And Dean nodded, relieved. He was still so fucking hard and Cas was warm and open against him. The wicked grin was back.

“I’m going to ride you Dean Winchester. You’re going to come inside me and then we’re going to save the world.”

“Amen.” Cas reached behind him, guiding Dean’s length back inside him and resuming his rhythm, only now the lust in his eyes was joined by something new and fiercer. It was bright as the sun, bathing Dean in its glow. He felt reborn, baptized into a new religion that he didn’t just believe in but would happily give his life for.

_Love._

Whatever they were doing wasn’t sex anymore. It had all the same trappings, but Dean knew instinctually that when it was over the high wouldn’t fade and turn sour like it usually did. This was the kind of high you never really came down from.

Cas began to move faster, letting his head tilt back to expose the column of his throat. Dean wanted to reach up and touch the place where the fine, dark hair of his beard ended, but there was no stopping his momentum now. The heat of Dean’s body was rising from a simmer to a full boil.

“Close, Cas.” He couldn’t stop his hips from bucking up to match Castiel’s, but they worked together.

“Do it, Dean. Come with me.” Somehow Cas suddenly felt tighter around him and Christ was he _clenching?_ That devious little—

“Castiel I swear—uggh!” It was too good; he had to shut his eyes and just feel. He could hear Cas breathing his name above him and after a few seconds the soft sounds of a cock being taken in hand. When Cas came it was like a thunderstorm. The sky shook and the air bent and snapped. Moisture hit Dean’s chest and then he was quaking and erupting.

When he did open his eyes- several Earth-shattering moments later- Cas was shining with sweat, his head lolling forward. With no real space on the bed to spread out on, he collapsed right there on Dean’s chest with a grunt. He fumbled an arm beneath the bed and retrieved a small towel to wipe the bulk of cum from their skin before tossing it lazily onto the floor. Then he snuggled closer, sated and happy.

Never in his life had Dean Winchester been a cuddler, but wrapping his arms around Cas and holding him close felt like the most natural thing in the world. They didn’t speak for a while, as they let their heartbeats return to a normal speed. Then Cas murmured,

“Did you mean it? What you said?” Nodding would have taken too much energy, so he said,

“Every word.” He was so peaceful there, with Cas in his arms and the endorphins singing in his blood, but if Cas had felt the need to ask then further explanation was probably needed. He swallowed and willed the blood to return to his brain.

“That night with the hookers…when you said it was me you had wanted to be with? You weren’t alone in that. Taking your virginity myself had crossed my mind, but you were so squeamish about sex and women, I thought the idea of being with a man would have…offended your angelic sensibilities or something.”

Cas huffed slightly.

“I know, I know. Hindsight, right? But the problem was…it wasn’t just that night. The way I had started to think about you…it wasn’t like it was for you. I _knew_ what I was feeling. After your first few months with us, when you were coming around more regularly, Sam started to tease me. Said if he caught the two of us making heart eyes at each other while the other wasn’t looking one more time he’d lock us in a motel room with nothing but red wine and a DVD of The Notebook.”

Cas snickered.

“Your brother always was the more emotionally perceptive one.”

“Yeah well, like I said, I was an idiot. Or maybe just a coward. Cuz even with that, I couldn’t let myself take the risk. What if Sam was wrong? What if I made a move and you got spooked and left for good? And even if he was right…I had a mission and so did you. There wasn’t time for this high school crush bullshit.”

Cas raised his head to look into Dean’s eyes.

“I understand Dean. I had the same fears. But can you promise me something?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“When you do go back to your time, no matter how you handle Michael and Sam…don’t make me wait.”

“Make _you_ wait? Hell Cas, this little dance of ours hadn’t been a real picnic for me either.”

“You know what I mean. You said it yourself: it was different for me. But you _know_ how you feel now, and the version of me from five years ago doesn’t have a clue. I’m too busy trying to figure out the moral implications of imagining that it’s your hand instead of my own touching me while I masturbate.” Dean laughed.

“Shit, you were masturbating back then?” Cas grimaced a little, ashamed.

“I was starting to. I was _not_ very good.”

“Damn, that’s…that’s fucking _cute_ is what that is.”

“I’m serious Dean. Take your time with me. It took me years to acquire sexual skill, and not every experience was pleasant. If you do end up changing the future, all that will change as well.”

“Good,” Dean said with no hesitation. “I don’t want you to have to go through that again. You deserve better.” Cas smiled and let his head fall again. Dean closed his eyes.

“And it it’s sex ed you’re after, I’ll be the only teacher you need.” He tried to keep the possessive edge out of his voice, but most likely failed.

They slept.

 

Morning came, as mornings do, popping the bubble of happiness that their mutual confessions and shared passion had created. A knock shattered the quiet, forcing them apart. Dean scrambled to make himself decent, but Cas just walked to the door with his ass in the breeze and swept aside the beaded curtain.

If the young Asian man that had knocked was surprised to see Cas in the raw, he didn’t show it.

"Dean wants to see you. Says to bring the other Dean, where ever he…” His eyes found Dean, still struggling to put on his pants. “…is.”

“Yeah, we’ll be there,” Dean grunted, more than a little sour at being disturbed.

"Thanks, Kevin.” Cas let the beads fall and when he turned, his face reflected Dean’s mood.

“I’d almost forgotten.” Cas had a pretty adorable pout, but it didn’t make the situation any better.

“I should be mad he didn’t try to find us sooner.” He found his shirt and yanked it on.

“Are you?” Dean huffed.

“What do you think?” Cas sighed and began to dress.

 Another time, another place, Dean may have felt self-conscious about being caught naked with another dude- a fallen angel no less. Maybe the kid tattled to Future Dean, maybe he didn’t, but as he and Cas walked outside, he knew that being ashamed of it just wasn’t going to happen.

Better that the other Dean did know- let him catch a glimpse of what he was missing. As they walked to the main meeting cabin in the early morning light, Dean threaded his fingers into Castiel’s and squeezed. When he didn’t let go for several yards, Cas shot him a look. One might have even described it as hopeful.

“You sure about this?” The night, the promises, the hand holding- it didn’t really matter that Cas was referring to.

“Oh yeah.” He said- because he was.

Future Dean was bent over a table when they walked in, conferring with two burly men in bulletproof vests. Each had an automatic weapon slung over their shoulders, and twin looks of grim determination on their faces.

“—and don’t move until you are _sure_ the section’s been cleared of Croats.” The men nodded.

“Got it.” One said, and they stepped away. Future Dean looked up to see himself and Cas standing in the doorway.

“’Bout damn t—“ He froze. Dean saw his fists clench as his gaze darted from their joined hands to Dean’s expression, which may have been on the smug side.

“Whatever.” Dean said, “We’re here ain’t we? You got a plan of attack?” Future Dean’s jaw flexed.            

“Yeah. Coulda let you in on it a lot sooner, but looks like you were _otherwise occupied_.” He layered each word with such venom that Dean had to fight the impulse to flinch. He grabbed a handgun from the table and cocked it. “Well congrats, I hope you enjoyed your evening, cuz now you’re going in blind. Castiel,” He ground out the name but didn’t even look at him when he said it, “You’re leading the Beta Team. Gear up. And you—“ He pointed to Dean with the barrel of his gun. “You stick with me and pray like hell you don’t get in my way.”

With that, they were dismissed. The truck was loaded with ammo and as much manpower as they could spare for the mission, while still leaving enough people behind to keep the camp running should it go south.

Dean pulled Cas off to the side. He looked down at their hands, still twined together. He was trying to think of the perfect thing to say. Something that would express how much last night had meant to him and how much he would cherish the memory, but Dean always sucked at goodbyes.

Cas took pity on him.

“Hey.” He said, putting his free hand on Dean’s face. Their eyes met and Cas gave him a smile. “Thank you.”

That was all that was needed. They kissed one last time, a fragile and tender thing that said what words could not, and parted. Dean headed back to the cabin where his other self was packing up.

“You really gonna let _yourself_ go into a fight without knowing the plan?” Future Dean said nothing, just sniffed and continued to load the Colt before shoving it into his thigh holster. He brushed out of the cabin and Dean had to walk fast to keep up. From behind he could see the tension in his own shoulders.

“Hey asshole, wait up!” Future Dean climbed into a jeep and started the engine, barely giving Past Dean enough time to swing into the passenger's seat before taking off.

“You got something you need to say before we do this?” Familiar hands gripped the steering wheel, turning Future Dean’s knuckles white. But he kept his eyes on the road and his mouth shut in a grimace. Dean knew this game- he’d played it with Sammy many times before. No rational argument could make Dean talk before he was ready to. The only other option was to play dirty.

So he relaxed into his seat and looked out at the winding road as they drove down the wooded path towards the city. The forest may have been a beautiful place five years ago, but now it was a graveyard. Cars, trash, abandoned tents; even a crusted-over laundry line littered the forest floor.

He thought about the version of him in the drivers’ seat. He may not relate to his callousness or his detached leadership style, but he knew one thing: Dean Winchester was possessive. Not miserly- most of the time he was happy to share. But he could not _stand_ having something taken from him, even if it was a past version of _him_ doing the taking.

“Reckon you saw that goodbye kiss huh?” Silence. “Yeah. He’s one hell of a kisser our Cas. Picked up a fair number of tricks too, since my time.” Another passive aggressive sniff. “It’s funny really. Five years ago he was shy as a kitten, but now?" The leather of the steering wheel creaked under the pressure of Future Dean’s hands. “That guy rode me so hard I saw _stars.”_

The car slammed to a halt on the dirt road. Future Dean got out of the driver's seat, stomped around the car and ripped the door open, pulling Past Dean out by his shirt and slamming him up against the side of the vehicle, murder in his eyes.

“You think you’re better than me, huh? Think you can make me jealous? _I_ fucked him first, not you.” Semantics really, but that wasn’t the point. Dean knew he had the upper hand now, even as his heels started to lose contact with the ground. He chuckled.

“Yeah, you fucked him alright. But that’s all you did.” The look of confusion on Future Dean’s face only made him laugh harder.

"See, that’s the saddest part man. You don’t even _know_ how good you could have had it. He is _our angel_ and you treated him like crap. So forgive me if I’m all out of sympathy for you.” He was returned to the ground and Future Dean took a step back, trying to work something out in his head.

"So last night…”

“I gave him what he _deserved._ No strings, no expectations. I did more for him in one night than you’ve done in five fucking years, and for one goddamn instant it didn’t matter that the world had gone to shit or what we’d probably die tomorrow because we were in it _together_.”

The words hung in the air for a moment, and he could see them sinking in on his counterpart’s face. For the first time since he had come to the future, he saw that steely countenance falter, giving way to genuine shame and regret. He looked so lost and broken, and suddenly Dean felt a pang in his chest that he hadn’t expected.

This _had_ been what he had wanted- to make his future self suffer, pay the price for his selfish behavior. But then maybe just by being alone, he already was.

Dean sighed.

“Look. Maybe I’m not in the best position to throw stones here. Hell, it took this little Twilight Zone time jump to get my head on straight about the two of us. So if it makes you feel any better…just know I plan on fixing it. This whole goddamn situation, every part of it. I’ll do it better this time.”

Future Dean looked hard into Past Dean’s eyes, like he was challenging him to keep his word. He nodded once and got back in the car. They drove in silence for a time, but the anger and tension had clearly eased. When the trees started to thin and the first signs of the approaching city came into view, Future Dean spoke again.

“You know why I brushed Cas off?”

“Which time?” Future Dean bristled a bit. He really had to stop baiting himself.

“Every time.” Dean could guess, but he didn’t say anything. “It was because…you and me? We don’t get what we want. And if we do, it just gets taken away from us. If I let myself really _be_ with Castiel…it would have gone tits up somehow. The people I care about get nothing for it but a target on their backs. I didn’t want to do that to him.”

He was right of course. His parents, Sam, Bobby…the more he loved a person the more screwed they got. But then he thought of Castiel’s face and the look in his eyes when he had made Dean promise not to make him wait. He’d broken plenty of promises before, but never one made so sincerely.

He looked over at his future self, who had seen five years worth more than he had of his friends and allies killed. Who’d given up the possibility of ever being happy because it wasn’t a sure thing. But nothing in life was a sure thing. Destiny was bullshit and patterns could be broken. That was the Winchester way. He wasn’t about to let himself make the same mistakes again when everything was screaming at him to change course before it was too late.

“I get it, man, I really do. But last time I checked we’re still Team Free Will, and I’m _not_ giving up on him. Maybe that’s selfish but I don’t give a damn anymore. We’ve sacrificed everything to keep others safe. I think it’s a high time we get a little something for our trouble.”

Future Dean’s mouth twitched slightly at the corners.

“You’re an idiot.” He said, not unkindly. “But I hope to God you prove me wrong.”

“You and me both pal.”

 

They met the rest of the team at the edge of the Croatoan hot zone. Future Dean explained on the way that a demon had coughed up some info on where Lucifer would be (from torture, classy) and they were on their way to the abandoned institution that he was most likely holed up in. It was stupid, suicidal, and probably their best option.

Castiel’s team cleared the path, spotting Croats and mowing them down in quick succession, with the two Deans taking up the rear. The closer they got to their destination, however, the less resistance they found, and it made Dean uneasy. As they surveyed the entrance to the institution, Future Dean gave orders. Cas would lead the larger group through the front as a distraction, and the Deans would head around back.

His stomach dropped as he thought of Cas and the others being served up to be slaughtered, and he had to grind his teeth to stop from chewing his other self out. Future Dean knew what he was doing, and no doubt he knew that Past Dean would never have made the same call. They could argue but it wouldn’t do a lick of good. They were two stubborn peas in the same son of a bitch pod.

The path up to the back courtyard was mostly clear, but as they approached, using the trees as cover, Dean could see a lone figure in a stark white suit admiring a rosebush. He couldn’t see the man’s face, but the height, the hair…he knew.

He’d known this was coming. Cas had told him that Sam had said yes. But nothing compared to seeing it with his own eyes. Future Dean must have sensed his reaction.

“It ain’t our brother. Not anymore. Now?” He withdrew the Colt from its holster. “Now he’s our target.” He leveled the barrel down and took aim. Dean wanted to stop him and just _talk_ to Sam. Maybe he was still in there somewhere and Dean could get him to fight Lucifer’s control. He wanted to try anything that didn’t involve snuffing out his little brother’s life for good. But he didn’t get the chance.

Future Dean had barely lined up his sights when, with a flick of his hand, the man in white jerked his would-be assassin forward like a puppet on strings. The Colt dropped to the ground and in the blink of an eye, Dean was looking at this own brother holding his future self in the air by the throat. There was a sickening crack and he watched himself drop.

Of course. This wasn’t Sam. Future Dean had told him his brother had died in Detroit, and he was right. He’d died the minute he had said yes to Lucifer wearing him like he was wearing that God-awful suit.

The Devil looked down at the corpse of his vessel’s brother and brushed his hand gingerly on his jacket; too delicate, it seemed, to let himself be dirtied by his own actions. He cocked his head to the side curiously and turned to the tree line, lasering in on the Dean that was still breathing.

“Now isn’t that curious.” Dean wasn’t going to wait to be Jedi-d to his fate, so he stepped forward, aware of the Colt just inches from his feet.

“You’re telling me. Since when did Satan get such bad taste?” His brother’s brow wrinkled in confusion. “The suit. What, no one thought to explain the irony of the Devil dressing like a dime store televangelist?” Lucifer smiled.

 “Is it not customary for angels to wear white?” Dean would have laughed if he weren’t so scared.

“You’re no angel pal.” Another step forward and his boot brushed against the Colt. He just needed one free second to reach down and grab it.

"For a hunter, I’m shocked you don’t know your history Dean. I was one of God’s first creations. _And_ one of his finest.”

“Well, we can’t all be daddy’s favorite forever.” _Just turn away,_ he thought. _Just for a second._

 _"_ Indeed.” He said, his voice dripping with disdain. “He had to go and create _you-_ the little hairless apes- and then expected us to bow down to you. Treat you as we would treat _Him_. But I couldn’t. I _wouldn’t_. So Michael cast me into Hell. All because I loved my Father too much to debase myself to his flawed creations.”

“Remind me to nominate you for the martyr of the year.”

“Such a witty little insect aren’t you? Well, let’s see how witty you are when you’re being crushed under my _heel_.” He raised his hand. Dean broke for the gun and even got his hand around it, but before he could take aim or fire, the courtyard was filled with a blinding light.

When he opened his eyes he was back in his motel room in Kansas, with Zachariah standing in front of him looking smug.

“Welcome back Dean. I trust you found the journey…illuminating?” Dean looked around. Everything seemed normal, just as he’d left it. The sky outside the windows was still dark, and his empty beer bottles were on the nightstand, untouched.

“Oh swell. No finer education than nearly getting ganked.” He flexed the hand that had been holding the Colt. Too bad he couldn’t have brought it back with him. Would have saved him a whole lot of trouble.

“Now you see the consequences of continuing to say no to Michael. Not only do you doom the world, you fail to stop your brother from saying yes to Lucifer.” Dean could tell the angel was pleased with himself. No doubt this little demonstration has been a Zachariah Original ™. And it _had_ been effective- he’d give the bastard that much- just not in the ways the angel probably had hoped.

“Yeah, I saw alright. I saw myself abandon my brother and turn away from the people I love. And it didn’t have shit to do with saying yes to Michael. So thank you for showing me the error my ways, but you can still tell Michael that he can kiss my ass.”

Shock melted into fury on Zachariah’s face.

“How _dare_ you. You think this is over? We know where you are now and we’re not letting you go again. You _will_ say yes if I have to—“ But Dean never heard the end of the threat.

Any other day he would have complained about being jerked around by angel mojo one time too many, but he was just so damned happy that Cas had plucked him out of that room that he didn’t even bother.

“Dean.” There was the barest hint of a smile on the angel’s face. “I believe we had an appointment?” Dean grinned like a goddamned fool. Cas- _his_ Cas- had saved him once again. He pulled the angel into a fierce hug, nearly knocking them both off balance, and breathed deep. The smell of ozone and trench coat filled his nostrils, making his head swim.

“Fuck Cas, am I glad to see you.” When he finally let Cas go, he seemed confused.

“Are you quite sure you’re alright Dean? You seem very…” Crystal blue eyes searched his face. “Happy. I’m not sure this is appropriate given our current predicament.”

“With the day I’ve had, you’re damn right I’m happy. Pop us into the nearest diner and I’ll fill you in.”

 

Dean hung up his cell just as the food arrived. The diner was mostly empty, save a couple of bleary-eyed truckers sipping coffee in the corner, and a single waitress with frizzy blonde hair, whose long fingernails clicked against the plates as she set them down.

“Thanks.” He said with a smile and then turned back to Cas. “Sam’s on his way. He’ll probably be here late tomorrow.” Over a burger and a heaping plate of curly fries, Dean told the story of his trip to 2014. He left out most of the night with Future Cas, speaking in generalizations even as images of the angel’s naked body slammed against his eyelids.

“Fascinating.” Said Castiel. “And yet you still refused Michael?”

“Damn right.” He said between bites. “I should never have left Sam alone- that was my mistake. One of many.” He pushed the plate away and wiped salt from his lips.

“Anything else I can get you, boys?” Asked the waitress. He nametag read ‘Shonda’, but she had Sharpied the ‘o’ into a little heart. “We got great pie!”

“No thanks. Just the name of the nearest motel.” Cas raised an eyebrow as Shonda gave them the name of a place half a mile up the road. When she left with the empty plates Cas said,

“Dean. You refused pie. Are you sure you’re feeling alright?” Dean smiled. If he played his cards right he had something better than pie in his future. _Don’t make me wait._ Cas had told him. He wasn’t going to.

“It’ll still be here in the morning.” He paid the check. “Impala’s still in Kansas, but Sam can drive us back there tomorrow.” Castiel nodded. “Motel’s not far anyway and I gotta stretch my legs.”

“Very well. I will let you sleep. You may call upon me when you have spoken with Sam.”

“Hang around.” He said, standing. “I’m still wound up. I could use the company.” He didn’t give Cas a chance to question the statement and walked out of the diner. Cas did follow, but Dean could feel his gaze- could practically _hear_ the gears turning in his head as he tried to decipher what exactly had changed in Dean.

They walked in the cool night air for a while, half a moon hanging overhead. He took a deep breath. _Start small,_ he thought.

“So…how long you been in that body Cas?” He fought to keep his tone casual. “You still…adjusting?”

“It has been approximately fourteen months since I acquired this vessel. It has been…challenging.” _Good start. You got this._

“How’s that?” Cas looked up at the moon, searching for the right words.

“Angels are not accustomed to spending a long time in one vessel. The translation from a heavenly form into a mortal one is often confusing. Things… _feel.”_

“They feel different, you mean?”

“They just _feel._ It is difficult to explain.” He couldn’t give Cas the words without showing his hand, so he tried a different tactic.

“And what do you feel?” God, this would have been so much easier if he could just straight up hit on the guy. That, at least, he knew how to do. Talking about feelings? This was the kind of shit he usually gave Sammy crap for. But if he’d managed to do it with Cas in 2014, he could do it now.

“That is a question I often find myself asking,” Cas replied. “I do not yet have the vocabulary for all the…colors of human emotions.” Dean nodded. “Why do you ask?”

Dean shrugged. The motel lights were just a couple blocks ahead.

“Just curious I guess.” They walked on in silence. Dean checked in, trying to ignore the growing nervousness in his stomach. He was doing okay so far, but that didn’t stop the feeling that the burger he’d just eaten was trying to claw it’s way back up. _Breathe Winchester._

Once in the room, Dean plopped onto one of the beds and began unlacing his boots.            

“Maybe it would help if you…describe them to me.” He said, not looking at Castiel.

“Describe what?”

“Your feelings. The…colors or whatever. I mean I’m not a shrink but I’ve spent a damn sight longer in a human body than you have. I might recognize a few.”

Cas sat on the other bed. He’d gotten two queens in case Sam wanted to crash when he arrived. If Cas was still suspicious of his curiosity, he must have deemed that the opportunity to actually talk about feelings with Dean was too rare to pass up.

“Well…when we are fighting demons there is a…burning, high up in my chest. I see red and…black.”

“That’d be anger.” Dean kicked off his shoes. “What about when we save someone?”

“That feels lighter, like I am being lifted up by something. And a…light purple I believe.”

“Pride. Not always deadly.” He rose up to shed his coat and flannel, leaving just his t-shirt and jeans. He sat back down across from Cas, making a point to let their knees brush together. He leaned forward and looked directly into the angel’s face.

“And what about now? With me?” He took pleasure in seeing the faint blush work it’s way up Castiel’s cheeks. Cas didn’t look away though- doubtful anyone had ever taught him that looking away was even an option when speaking to another person- and it gave Dean a front row seat to his pupils dilating, his mouth gaping open slightly.

“With you?” He gulped. “With you, I feel…warm and…pink. My heart rate will often increase, and I find myself wanting to…” His eyes dropped to Dean’s lips and Dean couldn’t stop from quirking them into a small smile.

“What do you want to do Cas?” Dean was feeling pretty warm himself right now. Cas was so close, the contact of their knees sparking a mounting desire for more.

“I don’t know. I don’t understand it.” He brought his gaze back up to meet Dean’s eyes. “Do you?”

“I think I might. It’s a little hard to explain though. The best thing for it might be a demonstration.” Cas nodded slowly, but being this close meant that Dean could see the hint of trepidation in his eyes.

“You trust me right?” His heart was pounding. He had to get this right.

“I do.” Cas said without hesitation.

"Good. Close your eyes.” He did. Dean leaned forward more and gently took hold of Castiel’s tie, tugging him forward slowly. Cas followed the pull, eyebrows furrowing slightly, but he kept his eyes closed.

Dean brushed their lips together, feather-light at first so Cas could get the idea. When he made no move to pull away, Dean pressed firmer, taking one lip and then the other between his own.

The noise Castiel made was so quiet; Dean felt it more than he heard it. It was the barest vibration on his lips. Dean pulled away, licking his lips in an attempt to satisfy his craving for more.

“Something like that maybe?” And from the look on Cas’ face, Dean could see he wasn’t the only one who wanted more. Cas nodded dumbly, reaching his hand out to grab Dean by the neck and bring their lips back together.

What the angel lacked in finesse he more than made up for in enthusiasm. It seemed now that the mystery of his emotions had been unlocked he was in no mood to play games.

 _Don’t make me wait._ This must have been why. The guy was a shaken champagne bottle ready to pop.

Lips and teeth met hungrily, and when Dean brought his tongue into the fray Cas groaned and surged forward, climbing right onto Dean’s lap without any preamble.

“Cas, Cas. Take a breath man, I’m not going anywhere.” But Cas had struck gold and he wasn’t going to stop digging.

“This Dean.” He panted as he mouthed at Dean’s neck and jaw. “This is it. What I wanted. _Please_ , Dean. Help me. It feels like I’m burning.” _Christ._ Dean was burning up himself. Blood was rushing to his groin so fast it was leaving him light-headed. Or maybe it was whatever Cas was doing to his collarbone.

“Trenchcoat.” He managed. “Off. Clothes too, but only if you want. Then lie back on the bed.” Cas pulled away and in seconds his coat and clothes had disappeared, mojo-ed off in a fit of lust-induced impatience.

“That works.” He stripped off his shirt the old fashioned way but left his jeans on. The rapidly vanishing rational part of his brain reminded him that it was too soon for full-on sex. Future Cas had told him as much. _This_ Cas still had so much to learn about his own body and what they could do for each other. But this Cas was also clearly horny as hell and not too concerned with anything beyond getting off. It was Dean’s responsibility to make sure they didn’t move too fast, and by _literally_ keeping it in his pants he hoped to maintain some restraint.

He crawled onto the bed, sliding a hand up the inside of Castiel’s bare leg. He spread them instinctually and rose up onto his elbows to see what Dean would do next. Dean just stared, trailing his fingers up and down as he swept his eyes over Castiel’s body.

No scars. No bullet wounds. Just smooth, pale skin dusted with dark hair. Slender hips, hard cock, and blue eyes that had never cried over a broken heart. This was not the same man he had been with in 2014, but he loved them both- exponentially, selfishly, and completely.

“You’re so beautiful Cas.” He voice was rough with emotion. “I’ve thought about you like this for a while now.”

Cas blinked. His brain was probably so overloaded that it took a moment for the words to register.

“You have?” Dean nodded and settled between Castiel’s legs, moving his hand up his torso to circle his nipples with his thumb. When he brushed over them, Cas gasped and arched into his touch.“I wanted to be your first. Should have said so three weeks ago but I chickened out. I’m sorry.”

From his nipples he moved his hands around to Cas’ back and with the barest pressure, he dragged his fingertips down each side of his spine. Cas moaned, arching even further until his cock brushed up against Dean’s stomach. Cas’ head fell backward and he shut his eyes, overwhelmed.

“ _Dean._ I can’t take it. It feels…as if…I’m dying.” Dean gripped Castiel’s hips and lowered them back to the bed.

“You’re not dying Cas, I promise.”

“I might.” He panted, “If you continue…not to touch me.” Dean smiled.

“It’s called teasing Cas. Foreplay. The longer the warm-up, the better the finale."

“Noted. Now _please_.” He bucked up again and Dean brought him right back down.

“Look at me Castiel.” Cas raised his head with effort and opened his eyes. Dean marveled- there were models and porn stars who spent _years_ perfecting their sexy smolder, but Cas had one to beat the band and it was completely natural. He ached in his jeans, simultaneously regretting their presence and grateful for the restraint they enforced.

Dean bit his tongue and licked his flattened hand, making use of the excess saliva. Cas watched, fascinated, tilting his head to the side in that adorably curious way of his. Dean wrapped a hand around the base of Castiel’s erection, causing the angel’s the head to wobble backward again.

“Eyes open Cas. I want you to see this.” Cas licked his lips and nodded.

“Alright, Dean.” He moved his hand up and down, slowly at first and without a great deal of pressure. Cas took a deep breath, trying to steady himself, even as his hips began to twitch.

“More?” Dean asked.

“Yes.” He increased the pressure, adding the slightest twisting motion. Cas whined and bit his lip.

“Relax.” He didn’t say it yet. He wanted too, but it was his secret weapon. First, he had to get Cas a little closer…

He built up a pattern; every time Cas got comfortable with one speed and pressure he would adjust, occasionally adding a thumb across the head or under the foreskin for extra sensation. Cas moaned, bucked, fucking _whimpered_ , but he never let his gaze falter.

“Good Cas. I want you to remember what feels good, so if you want you can do it to yourself later. And when you do…” He brought his other hand to cup what lay beneath the angel’s pulsing erection. “I want you to think of _me._ ”

This proved to be too much. Cas’ head finally fell to the pillow. His hands clutched at the bedspread.

“That's itbaby _._ Come for me” Cas exploded, his body arching back at what Dean thought should have been an impossible angle. He was glad that Cas had had his eyes closed, thus missing the look of incredulity on his face as he pumped him through his orgasm.

Dean stayed on the bed for a minute or so, watching the final spasms of the aftershock subside, then said,

“Don’t move.” He padded to the bathroom to retrieve a damp washcloth and wiped them both clean, before collapsing on the bed beside the spent angel. He thought about how Cas had described the feeling of pride as being a light purple. If so, Dean was a fucking football field of lavender right now.

“You still with me Cas?” He felt the nod of a head.

“I believe I am beginning to understand humans’ preoccupation with sexual intercourse.” He grinned and looked over at Castiel’s face- flushed but sobering.

“Technically,” He said as he surreptitiously moved a hand to adjust the still present bulge in his jeans. “That was just a hand job. We haven’t even gotten to the ‘intercourse’ part yet.”

Cas looked over.

“Yet?” Oh wow. For a being of near-infinite knowledge, his angel was a bit of a dummy. Dean licked his lips to try and suppress his smile and stared deep into Castiel’s eyes. They were so open and trusting, full of a love that he probably didn’t even understand yet. But Dean would be patient.

“Oh trust me, baby, we’re only just getting started. There is so much I want to do to you. _With_ you. I wanna suck you and fuck you and make you feel and want things you’ve never dreamed of. I wanna take you apart and put you back together, just like you did when you pulled me out of hell. If we end up going down in this fight against Lucifer, or in some other apocalypse somewhere down the line, then I’m going down knowing that I didn’t hold back.” He found Castiel’s hand and took it in his own. “I’m yours Cas. I got the mark on my shoulder to prove it. Yours, always.”

There was a split second where he wondered if that had been too much to say, too close to a declaration of love that Castiel may not have been ready for. But his hand squeezed Dean’s.

“I believe I am yours as well Dean. And though I fear what that will mean in the eyes of heaven, I trust we can deal with the consequences. Together.” Dean did smile then, thinking that if some angelic pricks or an absent God thought they could keep him and Cas apart, they clearly had no fucking clue who they were dealing with.

He turned his head upright again and tried to conjure thoughts to ease his erection. Burnt out cities, his Impala being left to rot, Zachariah’s face…the heat of his groin began to ebb.

“I do, however, have a question,” Cas said in a more serious tone.

“Hm? What’s that?” _Please let it not be about sex._ Dean thought, trying to hold the memory of one of his heavier high school gym teachers in his mind.

“Why did you call me ‘baby’?” Crap. There went all thoughts of Mr. Borichek’s goiter, as his brain supplied images of Future Cas, lithe and shivering beneath him.

He swallowed and shrugged.

“Just a pet name. I didn’t really give it much thought. Why- you don’t like it?”

“Oh no, quite the opposite in fact. I found it to be quite…arousing.” _Fuck_ , Dean thought as the word (despite being said so matter-of-factly) made his cock rally again. “I just wish I understood why.”

“Sometimes certain things just turn people on. Now always a rhyme or reason to it.” _Like you turn me on with that goddamn voice of yours. Or by looking at me. Or by standing near me._ Christ was it too soon for a second round? Or in Dean’s case, a first? Cas released his hand and turned fully on to his side.

“I’d like to know what certain things turn you on, Dean.” He said, but the change in position gave Cas a full view of Dean’s predicament, and the thought was lost. “Dean. You never climaxed.”

He sounded sort of worried. Dean managed to open his eyes and tried to explain with a look that he had been trying to show restraint, to go slowly so as to not make Cas uncomfortable.

But the naked concern on Castiel’s face made the notion feel incredibly idiotic.

“No, I didn’t.” Was all he could say, hoping it didn’t sound like an accusation.

“How can I help?” Well if he was offering…he searched Cas’ face, looking for any residual fear or discomfort at the idea, but found only genuine interest, and maybe even a little bit of eagerness. Dean looked down at the makeshift chastity belt.

“Mojo these pants off me will you? Then lick your hand like I showed you earlier and I’ll show you how it’s done.”

Turned out Cas needed very little instruction. He really had been paying attention earlier, and he was a fast learner. By the time Sam arrived the next afternoon, they had spent the bulk of the day in the motel room, doing a number of things that were not technically sex, but were pretty damn enjoyable nonetheless.

The reconciliation with Sam was brief but heartfelt, and the three climbed into Sam’s car to retrieve the Impala and make a plan for how to handle Zachariah. The only problem with this, however, was that Dean was still riding on cloud nine and would only ever meet Sam’s concerns with a wave and a “We’ll handle it.”

Then Cas started whistling ‘Baby Love’ by the Supreme’s, (Dean made a mental note ask where he’d heard that song in the first place) and it just made Dean smirk and eye him through the rearview mirror. Sam, who was driving, all but literally threw his hands up.

“Alright, that’s it. What is going on between you two?”

“It’s a long story, Sammy.”

“Well, we’ve got a while before we get to the motel in Kansas. I think we’ve got time.” Dean shot his brother a ‘you sure you really want to know?’ look, but before he could respond Cas piped up.

“Speaking of Kansas. I believe when we arrive it would be prudent to acquire two separate rooms for the evening. “ Sam glanced over his shoulder, confused.

“Since when do you sleep?” Cas looked at Dean.

“I will not be sleeping.” Dean just grinned devilishly, and poor Sam could take no more. He pulled off the side of the road and demanded a full explanation. He got one, and it made his ears turn pink.

“Oh. Well. That’s…” He floundered a bit, finally settling on: “I mean of course I’m happy for you guys.” And though he still had concerns about the ramifications of a human/angel relationship or how their new situation might be problematic during hunts, when he looked between Dean’s bashful grin and Castiel’s shining eyes he thought better of it.

 

**Author's Note:**

> This was not supposed to be nearly as long as it turned out to be. *Whew! Enjoy!!


End file.
